


― Flowered Up ―

by Drey_Damaso



Category: Imagine Me & You (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Freeform, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drey_Damaso/pseuds/Drey_Damaso
Summary: Rachel strode across the street with firm, determined steps, and entered the flower shop like a windstorm that knocks the door announcing a storm.“Don’t you dare try to melt me with that smile,” she said with her finger pointing.Luce arched a brow in puzzlement.





	― Flowered Up ―

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, unfortunately I don’t hold intellectual property on the characters and/or central plot. Neither do I crave profits from this tale.

 

 

Rachel strode across the street with firm, determined steps, and entered the flower shop like a windstorm that knocks the door announcing a storm.

“Don’t you dare try to melt me with that smile,” she said with her finger pointing.

Luce arched a brow in puzzlement.

“And how the hell could you?” Rachel asked, opening her arms.

Biting her lips and stirring even more doubt, Luce only briefly approached her. “Okay, I'm going to need more than that to understand...”

Walking nervously between the arrangements and pots, Rachel gasped. “The dinner! The fucking dinner!”

“Oh, that” Luce stared at the floor.

“No! Do not make that face...” Rachel threatened.

“Honey...”

“A list! We have an extensive list, stuck on the door of our refrigerator, with all the possible and imaginable answers we can give to Mom when she comes up with this kind of invitation...”

“Rachel...”

“And none of them is YES!!!!” She exploded, staring up at the ceiling and covering her face with her hands. “Why did I bother to create all these subterfuge? Do you know how many hours it took? Beth and Zina spent three afternoons helping me rehearse, so that no excuses would result in dead ends...”

“Of course you're very proud of the list,” Luce pointed out.

“What's the problem of choose any one of those endless options?”

The doorbell diverted attention from both to an entrance of a young couple.

Undeterred about attending them immediately or keeping her attentive to Rachel, Luce ended up buried her hands in her pockets, trying to plant a smile on her face.

“Hello,” said one of the boys. “Do you sell flowers?”

Rachel sighed audibly, spinning on her heels and heading for a back door, lounging by the stock.

Luce smiled and finally approached the customers. “How can I help?”

“We want the most hipsters flowers that you have.”

“Hipsters? Flowers hipsters?”

“Yeah!”

The florist was still trying to formulate an answer to that when Rachel returned through the same door that she had left, picking up a simple vase of violets on the way.

“Excuse me,” she said, not really waiting for an answer.

Luce watched in disbelief as Rachel, not at all delicate, took off the glasses from the boy's face and placed it on the flower.

“Done,” Rachel said, shoving the vase into the customer's hands. “Just leave it close to the others and it will dictate the trend.”

The boys were already off, offended, when Luce could not keep from saying “It would be good for her to sun up in the morning.” The slamming of the door and the shrill ringing of the bell made the florist's shoulders shrink. “Rachel... What's the matter honey?” Luce approached, trying to hold her.

“You know very well what the problem is!”

“The grandchildren.”

“The grandchildren! They will ask again how long we have been together, H. will try to change the subject, Dad will sigh and say that he has never seen a party as beautiful as our wedding, and then Mom will come with "Have you seen that it is now possible to make babies with two eggs?" Or "Is your friend Patty not pregnant again?" Or "Have you ever thought about adopting? Would be wonderful!"

Luce laughed, shaking her head. Rachel's imitation of her mother's voice and grimaces was dangerously perfect.

“Rach... They always do that. Really, I find it almost amusing. And by now you should be more than accustomed.”

“No! I can't stand this bullshit anymore, Luce! Why. Why have you accepting it?” Rachel whimpered.

“Because your mother was about to break into our apartment and make this damn dinner herself. Again. And I know how much you hate when she does it. I mean, we've changed the door lock five times in two years...”

“I'll find out how she gets the key!”

“Besides,” resumed Luce. “I got her to accept my suggestion to score for Thursday night...”

“Thursday? This Thursday?”

“Exactly.”

“But what about H.'s recital?”

“Exactly...”

“Oh...”

“And when she finds out and call to reschedule... Will you lend me your list?”

Gaped, Rachel stared at Luce for a long moment. “You're definitely the woman of my life.”

Luce smiled a second before Rachel threw herself into her arms.

When the kiss was already stretching beyond reasonable, Luce tried to interrupt “Honey... the door... open... glass... clients ...”

Rachel finally moved away a few inches, just so her wife could see her smile not even a little innocent. “You know, we have a business to finish in that stock, don't we?”

Luce arched a brow.

“And I really hope you got rid of those damn roses with thorns...” Rachel completed, already walking on her back and pulling Luce with her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh shit, this couple is almost too much to take, man...
> 
> By the way, Lena Headey, I'm still waiting for an invitation for a dinner, a wine, a coffee, to paint a fence or to go to the grocery store... Anything! Just please, call me!
> 
> Thanks for reading! o/


End file.
